scoonts.theminotaur-第9部分

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　At　three　o'clock　Jake　was　back　on　the　twelfth　floor　of　the　Crystal　City　plex　to　meet　with　Vice　Admiral　Dunedin。　His　office　was　not　quite　as　plush　as　Henry's　but　it　was　every　bit　as　large。　Out　the　large　windows　airliners　were　landing　and　taking　off　from　National　airport
　〃Do　you　have　any　idea　what　you're　getting　into？〃　Dunedin　asked。　He　was　soft…spoken；　with　short　gray　hair　and　workman's　hands；　thick；　strong　fingers　that　even　now　showed　traces　of　oil　and　grease。　Jake　remembered　hearing　that　his　hobby　was　restoring　old　cars。　〃In　a　vague；　hazy　way。〃
　〃Normally　we　assign　Aeronautical　Engineering　Duty　Officers；　AEDOs；　to　be　program　managers。　By　definition；　an　AEDO's　specialty　is　the　procurement　business。　Harold　Strong　was　an　AEDO。　But；　considering　the　status　of　the　A…12；　we　figured　that　we　needed　a　war　fighter　with　credibility　on　the　Hill。〃　The　Hill；　Jake　knew；　was　Capitol　Hill；　Congress。　But　who；　he　wondered；　were　the　〃we〃　of　whom　the　admiral　spoke？　〃You're　our　warrior。　There's　not　enough　time　to　send　you　to　the　five…month　program　manager　school；　so　we've　waived　it。　You're　going　to　have　to　hit　the　ground　running。　Your　deputy　is　a　GS…15　civilian。　Dr。　Helmut　Fritsche。　He's　only　been　here　three　years　or　so　but　he　knows　the　ropes。　And　you've　got　some　AEDOs　on　your　staff。　Use　them；　but　remember；　you're　in　charge。〃
　〃I　won't　forget；〃　Jake　Grafton　said。
　Dunedin's　secretary；　Mrs。　Forsythe；　gave　him　a　list　of　the　officers　who　would　be　under　his　supervision。　She　was　a　warm；　motherly　lady　with　silver…gray　hair　and　pictures　of　children　on　her　desk。　Jake　asked。　Her　grandchildren。　She　offered　him　a　brownie　she　had　baked　last　night；　which　he　accepted　and　munched　with　approving　ments　while　she　placed　a　call　to　the　Personnel　Support　Detachment。　She　gave　him　detailed　directions　on　how　to　find　PSD；　which　was；　she　explained；　six　buildings　south。　When　Jake　arrived　fifteen　minutes　later　a　secretary　was　busy　pulling　the　service　records　for　him　to　examine。
　He　found　an　empty　desk　and　settled　in。
　The　civilian　files　stood　out　from　the　others。　Helmut　Fritsche。　Ph。D。　in　electrical　engineering；　formerly　professor　at　Caltech；　before　that　on　the　research　staff　of　NASA。　Publications；　wow！　Thirty　or　forty　scientific　papers。　Jake　ran　his　eye　down　the　list。　All　were　about　radar：　wave　propagation；　Doppler　effect；　numerical　determination　of　three…dimensional　electromagnetic　scattering；　and　so　on。
　George　Wilson　was　a　professor　of　aeronautical　engineering　at　MIT　on　a　one…year　sabbatical。　He　had　apparently　been　recruited　by　Admiral　Henry　and　came　aboard　the　first　of　the　year。　He　would　be　leaving　at　the　end　of　December。　Like　Fritsche's；　Wilson's　list　of　professional　publications　was　long　and　plicated。　He　had　co…authored　at　least　one　textbook；　but　the　title　that　caught　Jake's　eye　was　an　article　for　a　scientific　journal：　〃Aerodynamic　Challenges　in　Low　Radar　Cross　Section　Platforms。〃
　Jake　laid　the　civilians'　files　aside　and　began　to　flip　through　the　naval　officers'。　Halfway　through　he　found　one　that　he　slowed　down　to　examine　with　care。　Lieutenant　Rita　Moravia。　Naval　Academy　Class　of　'82。　Second　in　her　class　at　the　Academy；　first　in　her　class　in　flight　school　and　winner　of　an　outstanding　achievement　award。　Went　through　A…7　training；　then　transferred　to　F/A…ISs；　where　she　became　an　instructor　pilot　in　the　West　Coast　replacement　squadron。　Next　came　a　year　at　the　Naval　Postgraduate　School　in　Monterey；　California；　for　a　master's　in　aeronautical　engineering；　and　another　year　at　Test　Pilot　School　at　NAS　Patuxent　River；　Maryland；　where　she　graduated　first　in　her　class。
　There　were　three　line　manders：　an　A…6　bombardier…navigator；　an　F…14　pilot　and　an　EA…6B　Electronic　Countermeasures　Officer…ECMO。　Jake　knew　the　A…6　BN　and　the　Prowler　ECMO。　There　was　an　aircraft　maintenance　specialist；　whom　Jake　knew；　and　five　AEDOs；　all　of　whom　wore　pilot　or　naval　flight　officer　wings。　Except　for　the　A…6　BN　and　the　Prowler　ECMO；　the　rest　had　fighter　backgrounds；　including　Tarkington；　who　was　one　of　only　two　lieutenants。　The　rest　were　manders　and　lieutenant　manders。
　If　the　navy　wanted　a　stealth　attack　plane；　why　so　many　fighter　types？　The　air　force　caned　all　their　tactical　drivers　fighter　pilots；　but　the　navy　had　long　ago　divided　the　tactical　fraternity　into　attack　and　fighter。　The　missions　and　the　aircraft　were　pletely　different；　so　the　training　and　tactics　were　also　different。　And　according　to　the　amateur　psychologists　in　uniform　who　thought　about　these　things　and　announced　their　conclusions　at　Happy　Hour；　the　men　were　different　too。　Either　their　personalities　were　altered　by　the　training　or　the　missions　attracted　men　of　certain　types。　According　to　the　attack　munity；　fighter　pukes　were　devil…may…care；　kiss…tomorrow…goodbye　romantics　who　lived　and　lusted　for　the　dubious　glory　of　individual　bat　in　the　skies。　The　fighter　crowd　said　the　attack　pukes　were　phlegmatic　plodders　with　brass　balls…and　no　imaginations…who　dropped　bombs　because　they　didn't　know　any　better。　Most　of　it　was　good；　clean　fun；　but　with　a　tinge　of　truth。
　When　Jake　finished　going　through　the　records　he　stacked　them　carefully　and　stared　thoughtfully　at　the　pile。　Dunedin　and　Strong　had　assembled　a　good　group；　he　concluded；　officers　with　excellent　though　varied　backgrounds；　from　all　over　tactical　naval　aviation。　The　test　pilot　was　the　only　real　question　mark。　Moravia　certainly　had　her　tickets　punched　and　was　probably　smarter　than　Einstein；　but　she　had　no　actual　experience　in　flight…testing　new　designs。　He　would　ask　Dunedin　about　her。
　Tomorrow　he　would　meet　them。　That　was　soon　enough。　First　he　had　to　find　out　what　was　really　happening　from　Henry　or　Dunedin。
　Henry　spoke　of　minefields…a　grotesque　understatement。　The　problems　inherent　in　overing　the　inertia　of　the　bureaucracy　to　produce　a　new　state…of…the…art　weapons　system　were　nothing　short　of　mind…boggling。　Dunedin　must　feel　like　he's　been　ordered　to　build　the　Great　Pyramid　armed　with　nothing　but　a　used　condom　and　a　flyswatter。　And　for　God's　sake；　do　it　quietly；　top　secret　and　all。　Aye　aye；　sir。
　In　the　Crystal　City　underground　mall　he　found　a　toy　store　and　purchased　a　plastic　model　of　the　air　force's　new　stealth　fighter；　the　F…l　17。　He　also　bought　a　tube　of　glue。　Then　he　boarded　the　Metro　blue　train　for　the　ride　to　Rosslyn。
　When　the　subway　surfaced　near　the　Key　Bridge；　Jake　stared　gloomily　at　the　raindrops　smearing　the　dirt　on　the　windows　as　the　train　rocked　along　under　a　dark　gray　sky；　then　it　raced　noisily　back　into　another　hole　in　the　ground　and　like　his　fellow　passengers；　he　refocused　his　eyes　vacantly　on　nothing　as　he　instinctively　created　his　own　little　private　space。
　He　felt　relieved　when　the　doors　finally　opened　and　he　joined　the　other　passengers　surging　across　the　platform；　through　the　turnstiles；　then　onto　the　world's　longest　escalator。　The　moving　stair　ascended　slowly　up　the　gloomy；　slanting　shaft　bearing　its　veterans　of　purgatory。　Amid　the　jostling；　pushing；　hustling　throng；　he　was　carried　along　as　part　of　the　flow。　This　morning　he　had　been　a　tourist。　Now　he　was　as　much　a　part　of　this　human　river　as　any　of　them。　Morning　and　evening　he　would　be　an　anonymous　face　in　the　mob：　hurry　along；　hurry；　push　and　shove　gently；　persistently；　insistently；　demanding　equal　vigor　and　speed　from　every　set　of　legs；　equal　privacy　from　every　set　of　blank；　unfocused　eyes。　Hurry；　hurry　along。
　Rain　was　still　falling　when　he　reached　the　sidewalk。　He　paused　and　turned　his　collar　up　against　the　damp　and　chill；　then　set　off　for　the　giant　condo　plex　four　blocks　away。
　Most　of　the　people　scurrying　past　him　on　the　sidewalk　had　done　this　every　working　day　for　years。　They　were　moles；　he　told　himself　glumly；　blind　creatures　of　the　dark；　damp　places　where　the　sun　and　wind　never　reached；　unaware　that　the　universe　held　anything　but　the　dismal　corridors　where　they　lived　out　their　pathetic　lives。　And　now　he　was　one　of　them。
　He　stopped　at　the　corner；　the　model　in　the　box　under　his　arm。　People　swirled　around　him；　their　heads　down；　their　eyes　on　the　concrete。　Callie　wouldn't　get　home　to　the　flat　for　another　hour。
　He　turned　and　walked　back　against　the　flow　of　the　crowd　toward　the　station　exit。　Right　across　the　street　from　the　exit　was　a　Roy　Rogers。　He　paid　for　a　cup　of　coff